


Love Is Hope(less)

by silvery_sunset



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Gen, M/M, POV Outsider, Red String of Fate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:54:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24483100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvery_sunset/pseuds/silvery_sunset
Summary: To see Osamu and Suna dancing around each other, pulling and releasing the edges of their threads to their own will was the most painful proof that Atsumu would never find someone as special to him as they will become to each other.He wanted to pull Osamu's string close to his as a last effort to keep him. Them.  Together, as they've always been.For the last time.Alternative Title: Atsumu I'm so sorry
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 7
Kudos: 82
Collections: OsaSuna Week 2020





	Love Is Hope(less)

**Author's Note:**

> Atsumu's the protagonist and he suffers you've been warned. Yes this is an osasuna fic please don't leave. 
> 
> Special thanks to T, who supported me creating this and saw me writing this monstrosity. And gave it a title! A kiss and hug for you. 
> 
> Thanks to that one account that started the "Atsumu king of unrequited love" trend. You are partially responsible for this story.

_“An invisible red thread connects those are destined to meet regardless of time, place or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break”_

Fate. A path traced before birth, planned with no consent or compassion for the ones who will have to walk it. An inevitable divine determination that can be feared or anxiously expected for its victims. The concept of no one in the world having actual control over their lives. 

Miya Atsumu could see it, stretching and rolling. Red strings joining souls fated to meet and connect to each other for the rest of their lives. 

When he was a kid, destiny painted his eyes just like a droplet of blood inside a glass of water. It was gorgeous. Not that his 4 year old self would have a vocabulary capable of expressing the way his heartbeat accelerated seeing that thread extending itself around Osamu's body, tied to his right pinky finger.

Since that day, when Osamu looked at him as if he was nuts when Atsumu tried to roll that pretty string around his own fingers and tug it to see how far it went, he realized fate didn't like to show off.

It made him feel special to know that someone up there decided for whatever unknown reason that they'd give him the privilege of seeing the inseparable union between two souls. 

However, his gift would soon become a punishment, when little Atsumu notices that the scarlet thread tied against himself had its own end. 

And there was no one on the other side.

← →

"'Samu, wake up already, come on!" Atsumu pointed out each word with a different article of clothing thrown on the top bed of their bunk bed. He was about to use the tie as a made-up slingshot when Osamu threw the Inarizaki High blazer on his face. 

"Shut up, 'Tsumu" he groaned against a pillow. 

"It's our first day of school, breakfast's downstairs." Atsumu checked his phone's clock. "Yer 10 minutes late!" 

And with that he ran downstairs, bombarding his mother with questions about the distance between home and school, what was his ID number and address.

"What's it for?" She asked, reheating the sandwich besides Atsumu's empty dish. 

"For the volleyball club application" It's what he meant to say with his mouth full of toast. 

The strings became part of Atsumu's life faster than he could imagine. He easily learned how to make the red disguise within the view if he wanted to. Like when you're reminded that you're breathing and your lungs immediately feel heavier, he just needed an unconscious reminder of his gift and there they were, tangled carmine lines indicating infinite different paths yet to be walked.

At the school's entrance hall, Atsumu immediately went after the table responsible for the sports clubs applications, pulling Osamu along by his collar because if he asked he'd probably say to do it later. They couldn't. 

"Blood type? Why do ya need to know that?" His brother frowned trying to remember if it was positive or negative O. Or was it A? Atsumu also didn't remember.

"I've never seen anyone have an external bleeding due to playing volleyball." a low voice retorted with a snort, handing the clipboard back to one of the girls who were taking care of the forms. When he looked at the owner of the voice, it was like Atsumu just remembered he was breathing.

His own string wandered around, aimlessly, through the gigantic web drawn alongside the corridor. Ways fated to converge at a given moment, threads waving between the pink petals that fell from the cherry blossoms.

One of them glowed, highlighted in the middle of the others. Stretched around Osamu and the sleepy looking brunette that stared at them.

"Volleyball club?" Atsumu's words were pulled out of his mouth in a breath. 

The boy nodded. Osamu nodded back and turned to his brother, pointing his head at the entrance to the main hall where the teachers and the principal would give the newcomers their welcoming speech. 

Atsumu followed, watching Osamu's string climb his wrist and stretch around his entire right arm, tightening around it and pulling him towards the stranger. 

_"_ Really? Right now?" Atsumu muttered under his breath, raising his eyes to the sky with disdain for whoever watched him. _Y'all must have so much fun with this, don't ya?_

_← →_

"Suna Rintarou, I play middle blocker" the boy's monotonous voice echoed in the gym. He had olive green eyes, Atsumu noticed now that he was closer, right beside him. 

The captain and the other third years assented. Osamu's greyish eyes, scanned the new middle blocker's back, shining in interest, as hard as Atsumu tried to ignore them, his twins' subtleness wasn't something he could really brag about. 

The ruby colored string stretched before Atsumu's eyes didn't really help, floating around as it wanted to show them that fate's hand was finally acting in that place. 

Of course, it was a shame Atsumu was the only one that could see it. 

"Ya know that guy?" He whispered to Osamu while the third years explained the try-outs for the regular team. 

"We're classmates" Osamu whispered back. Atsumu huffed. 

Their first practice game was underclassmen versus upperclassmen, to level their abilities. 

Atsumu, as he always did, left a message right away for his new potential spikers on his first set. A bad receive demanded him a complicated change of position to attack and he should just give it back to rewind the attack setting. Only Osamu jumped for the spike, and scored beautifully with a ball that Atsumu sent him by changing his center of gravity to his core.

They high-fived and saw their teammates mouths agape. 

_If ya wanna play with me, get on my level_ he grinned, going to serving position.

A certain middle blocker smiled at Osamu and whispered some instructions to him. The red thread wrapped around them, trying to close the distance between the boys. 

The ball bounced in the floor three times before the whistle. 

Osamu protected the back of his head. Suna giggled. Atsumu growled and slapped the ball on his jump. 

The whistle blew. 

"Out!"

"Idiots" he muttered seeing Suna and Osamu approaching each other immediately at the end of practice. The three of them made it into the Inarizaki High Volleyball Club's regular team.

← →

"That Suna guy and ya been gettin' along just fine, huh?" He commented while doodling little stars on his notebook. Chemistry homework was way too boring, he thought as he drew an eyepatch on the Mendeleev guy. 

"And what about it?" Osamu yawned as he left the bathroom with a towel draped over his shoulders. 

"You guys sit near each other?" He tapped the pencil against his lips. Devil's horns would look great on Marie Curie.

"Yeah. He's a jerk but he borrowed me a pencil. And likes star wars." Osamu buried his hands in the potato chip bag sitting on the table and shoved all of them in his mouth. 

"Gross. You just left the shower!" Atsumu grimaced, grabbing the bag.

"What? 'M hungry" his brother shrugged.

↑

The red string of fate was very temperamental, it wasn't hard to imagine why. It was a soul connection, and the only consistent thing in souls is change. 

Some signs demonstrated the situation Fortune's roller coaster was in. Atsumu took mental noted of them when he was bored. It wasn't that useful, but there was some sort of fun in trying to enter people's minds through them. When he was little, he liked to tell himself it was as if he was a superhero.

There would be times the thread took the shape of a merciless carmine snake, slowly wrapping around its victim and covering every limb, gradually hardening its grip. The tangles choked the confused prey, making their way back to the path they're meant to be in tougher. Still, it was never impossible to come back. You were bound to your way in fate's hands.

When a line was stretched, in the verge of tearing apart, it was the consequence of soul divergence. In the ups and downs of destiny's route, conflicts came back and forth, part of the inevitable plan conducting people to a life together.

The only certainty in that route is that you'd always have each other.

Atsumu's red string entangled, rolled, stretched and tugged, pulling his soul in random directions, following the slopes of his own lonely way. 

He's already lost count of how many times he wished to find someone, even if they were the very end of that long path, someone that could compensate his journey.

The closest he will ever get to the feeling of connection soulmates have is the weird tingling sensation in the back of his neck when Osamu's not okay. Right?

What is a hug from a romantic fated one supposed to feel like? Or a kiss?

The feeling of their fingers interlocked with yours must feel some kind of right? Meant to be? Perfect? 

He's never been a romantic. He wasn't born to be one, apparently. Unfortunately, he just can't help his imagination. 

← →

"Suna found the worst movie ever done in the internet yesterday. He wants to roast it while we watch this weekend." Osamu said as they walked back from practice. Summer is about to start, Atsumu notices, feeling the wind blow against his hair. 

"What kind of person watches a movie to roast it?" He asked, burying his hands in his blazer's pockets, breathing in the night air.

"What kind of person recommends Up! As a sad movie to watch?" Osamu snorted. "A twelve year old?" He bent over to pick up a soda can and throw it in the trash bin.

"At least it's a good movie. And it is sad!" He protested. 

"Yer watchin' it with us or not?" Osamu asked, the jingle of the keychain in his hands as he opened the door resonating in Atsumu's brain ten times louder.

"I pass." He sighed, entering the house and leaving his shoes in the foyer. It's Suna and Osamu. He'd only upset himself. And they'd eat all the popcorn before he gets the change to sit on the sofa. 

Osamu frowns for a millisecond. Atsumu's neck tingles. 

"Okay." He follows Atsumu in. 

← →

Atsumu stared at class 2-1's door with the look of a cat considering murder. The students passing near to enter the classroom shrank their shoulders and made the least noise possible, as if to protect themselves from an incoming fight. It's been a while since the last one, Atsumu remembers. 

Two students in particular talked calmly in their way to the classroom. 

"Where the hell were ya? I looked for yer ass in the entire school!" He growled low, leaning against the wall and stabbing both Osamu and Suna with his eyes, like they just interrupted a very good serve of his.

"We had lunch together today" Osamu answered innocently as Suna passed in front of Atsumu into the class. 

Osamu's eyes shifted up. He knew exactly what he did wrong and why Atsumu wanted to punch that fake naive look off his face. It was the freaking _'Tsumu broke it, not me!_ face. He hated him. 

Atsumu's peripheral vision caught Suna worriedly staring at them. 

"Ya could've told me" he let his bento box cool down while looking for that idiot. His growling stomach didn't like that part.

"Did I need to?" He bit back, annoyed.

Atsumu bit his lip. 

They've been having lunch together for what? Seventeen years? 

Atsumu always had extra rice and these stir fried veggies because that idiot would steal them all when he wasn't looking. He never left homework for lunch break because Osamu liked to talk while eating and he got all moody and bothered when you ignored him for math assignments. 

So it wasn't that important after all. 

The bell rang. Break's over. Atsumu tightened his fists inside his pockets and gathered all his self control. He didn't wanna do this now. He wasn't feeling like it. 

"Whatever" he rolled his eyes and went back to his own classroom. 

"Good. Whatever" Osamu mimicked, getting in his own classroom.

In philosophy class, Atsumu decided to pay more attention to his classmates' red strings. Some did a clumsy dance over sleeping students' head, others stretched outside, piercing through the window, trying to pull their owners with them. A single thread crossed the classroom, connecting a blonde girl with a ponytail and another one who wore glasses.

Atsumu's string crawled and tightened on his arms, climbing on his shoulders and spreading on his chest, he could almost feel the stretch of his skin. 

The empty end rested against his heart. 

← →

Fifteen minutes late. Osamu didn't like taking too long to come home after practice. He was the one coming after Atsumu who was usually alone, practicing his serves. He complained that dinner would cool down if they didn't go back soon and that if he took one more minute longer he'd go alone. 

He never left without Atsumu though, and never hurried their 20 minute walk back, talking about their days. 

So what was that dumbass taking so long in the locker room? 

Atsumu opened the door leading there with a noise that echoed in the whole gym, preparing to yell about getting a very good explanation on why Osamu was so late. Except he wasn't there. Neither was his sports bag. 

Atsumu's phone vibrated in his pocket. 

'Goin home w Suna, already told mom'

'we gonna study for physics exam. I'll be home later'

Atsumu read the last message and shoved his phone back inside his pocket.

'don't wait for me'

It was nice walking in his hometown at summer nights, feeling the wind blow against his hair. 

He tightened his grip against his bag's strap. 

He gritted his teeth. He hates feeling like this, he hates it so much.

He should have expected it. Osamu has a life, his friends and his fated one. 

The frail string Atsumu himself tied between them in his head broke in half. 

And the damn fate sweetly reminded him, wrapped around his neck. He didn't know if he choked in his own breath because of the string constricting his throat or the tears he did his best to hold back in.

He darts in home and goes to the bathroom upstairs, throwing cold water on his face. 

Destiny tightens around him. 

Atsumu hates crying.

← →

"Hey yer doin' nothing today. Battery's over, Suna?" Atsumu screamed from the other side of the court, taking a stray ball and preparing to serve it again. 

Out of pure spite, Atsumu asked his captain to let Suna and him practice for two hours after normal team training because Suna was lacking received and overworking poor Akagi-san who has to cover him. Akagi-san will kick his ass for that, he knows.

Atsumu's been on a bad mood for the whole day, so it was actually just a way to throw his frustrations on Suna for the last weeks.

If Atsumu couldn't see the red string connecting them he'd just have straight up presumed that the middle blocker and Osamu we're _very_ close friends. Disappearing out of nowhere kind of friends. Sharing inside jokes kind of friends. _"Nah it's our thing ya wouldn't understand"_ kind of friends. 

He really doesn't want to be bitter about it but when they're just constantly throwing it at his face it's just plain annoying.

Just like Suna's presence in general. And the guy knows that. Oh boy, how he knows that. 

Suna was already panting on the other side of the net, hands on his knees. He seemed really tired. 

"Ten minutes" Atsumu states, throwing a water bottle in his head. Suna annoyingly catches it with no problem and drinks almost the entire bottle all at once.

He lied on the floor, probably to let his body rest properly. 

Atsumu dried the sweat on his forehead with his arm and sat besides the brunette in silence. He could see the red thread sneaking up Suna's fingers and right arm.

"You can be worse than coach" he huffed, sitting up and stretching his legs. Atsumu did the same. "Why are we doing this though? And right before Spring Tournament? You never asked to practice alone with me." 

He knew exactly why. And he wanted Atsumu to say it. Atsumu rolled his eyes and smirked. 

"You and 'Samu on the other way… always practicing together, always leaving gym together. Almost like yer the twins"

"We're friends" Suna immediately groaned. Bingo. "And it's way easier to practice with him than with you" he frowned. 

Atsumu got closer to Suna, giving the the boy a satisfied predatory smile. 

"Yer not subtle at all, didja know?" He whispered.

For five seconds, Suna frowned and scrunched up his nose in irritation, before turning back to his eternally sleepy judging glare. His string tightened and relaxed around his body. 

It made Atsumu's day. 

_Don't intervene in fate's way_

They practiced the remaining 40 minutes in silence. Atsumu put more pressure in every glance he spared at his receiver, who seemed kind of off for the rest of the activity. 

When they left the locker room, feeling the chill February breeze's hug wrap around their still hot bodies, both boys shivered from head to toe. 

"Does he know?" Suna asked, eyes on his phone. 

His voice sounded different from the defensive low one he usually displays. It was small, fragile. Atsumu had to look at his right to be certain it was the same sharp tongue that just uttered these words. 

Suna's olive green eyes fixated on his, shining in the dim light of the lampposts. They could look in the depths of his soul and pull the truth from his throat.

Atsumu can't help.

"No." He yelped.

_Don't intervene in fate's way._

"Do you promise to me you won't tell him?'' this time, it was a growl. A threat. 

_It'll turn against you_

"I do" he yelped again, without thinking, leaving his answer in a hot puff of air.

They walked back together until they parted ways in the corner of a street. When he turned his back on Atsumu, Suna's string seemed to squirm. It dodged Atsumu and glowed a little, traveling and long and tortuous path to the left, to Atsumu's house. 

Atsumu sighed. Destiny laughed at him. 

↑

Knowing fate was a double-edged sword, or, Atsumu's favorite, a double yield. 

One of the blades brought determinism's comfort. Watching the growing bonds between souls was like reading a fairy tale. Even though there could be twists and turns, obstacles and villains, the end would always be the same. Happily ever after. 

The other blade as the cruel facade that came from it, that could only be real for Atsumu himself. 

If he didn't have a story with anyone, how could he be happily ever after?

To see Osamu and Suna dancing around each other, pulling and releasing the edges of their threads to their own will was the most painful proof that Atsumu would never find someone as special to him as they will become to each other. 

He wanted to pull Osamu's string close to his as a last effort to keep him. Them. Together, as they've always been. 

For the last time. 

_You're not supposed to intervene_ , fate's hands whispered to him in the form of the lonely thread rolled around his fingers. 

Atsumu cursed it in the quietness of his thoughts. 

_How selfish of you, Destiny._ He'd always conclude.

→ ←

"Pro? Really? Suna?" He asked with his mouth full of cheap fruit cereal their mother bought because Osamu suggested. It was kind of tasty.

"He told me yesterday, said he got three offers after Nationals finals" he took the milk bowl from Atsumu's hands. "It's not polite to talk with yer mouth full"

Atsumu stuck his tongue out, that was colorful because of the little fruit rings from the cereal. Osamu grimaced in disgust and sat in front of him.

Atsumu put his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his palm, thoughtful. With his other hand, he played with the red string, pulling it until he got to the other end. Osamu didn't pay attention. He was already used to that and probably thought it was a quirk from nervousness his two developed when they were little.

"And I said 'Wow, congrats!' and stuff. Told him if he got an offer to Tokyo he should think about it. Ya know how he misses the place." Osamu continued, lowering his voice and dropping his gaze to the wooden table top. "He told he was gonna think 'bout what to do."

Atsumu's eyes turned from his string to his twins' thin scarlet rope. 

Like a snake, the thread covered Osamu's wrist and stretched, projecting itself forward. It was tense. 

His right hand changed positions and pulled the string along with it for a second. Atsumu wanted to hold it. To pull that big idiot on the other side closer to his even bigger idiot of a brother and let them do their thing where they talked without saying words.

He got up from his seat and took Osamu's orange juice glass to the sink, already filled with dirty dishes. In his way back, he ruffled his twins' hair, leaving the black roots that were growing sticking out. 

Osamu let out a sigh and gave him a weak, small smile. 

Atsumu smiled back. "Dishes are yers!" He winked, running back to their room. 

"But I was the one who cooked!"

The gods or deities up there laughed at them one more time. Atsumu stopped his giggling to throw himself on Osamu's bed, staring the ceiling. 

_This damn Destiny_ , he huffed.

↑

Getting used to the mess of souls on his way was easy. Atsumu got it on his first days. Still, one of the toughest lessons Fortune will never shove inside his head is the no intervention. 

Yeah, he was chosen as some kind of passive observer of that whole destiny magic, but who said he liked that? It wasn't any fun to see people suffering when he had the absolute certainty that it wasn't the end of that connection, or that it was never meant to be to begin with. If the string didn't break, there was a way.

So, if that way existed, why would Fate want people to dodge it or leave it, when at anytime, the invisible hands would guide them to the original route?

Maybe Fate liked showing off after all. 

If the deities had smiled at his luck like they did to the one boy in the train complaining too loud about his girlfriend to his friends, or his mother's friend who was a having a pre-marital crisis if that's a thing, wondering if she'd ever be able to build a family with the person resting on the other end of her thread, Atsumu wouldn't hesitate to give his all and follow what destiny had for him.

"Do you love them?" "Isn't it obvious that it'll be okay?" The words were stuck in his throat. He wished to scream them at people. It was frustrating and tiring. 

_How are you so sure?_ They'd ask. 

_The thread may stretch or tangle, but it'll never break_ , he'd like to answer. They wouldn't understand. 

They wouldn't understand that, if there's someone on the other side of that thin red string, each knot and each tug were worth it. 

Atsumu understood it. His own string always reminded him. 

→ ←

"Oh" they said, at the same time.

Their city wasn't that big and it should be normal to meet one friend here or there while walking around. Unfortunately, Suna Rintarou and the glowing red thread tied to his right hand were not the first thing Atsumu wanted to meet while jogging around, at the moment. 

Atsumu slowed down and they decided to walk together and stop by a bench in a ln empty park. Both stared at pigeons fighting for stray crumbs of bread on the sidewalk for what seemed to be forever. 

"Did Osamu tell you?" Suna broke the silence. Thank God. 

"Three offers, right? Ya almost won this time." Atsumu gave his best mocking tune. "He didn't say which teams though."

Suna took his phone out of his pocket. It was weird to not see him doing it before, because of the absolutely heavy awkward air in that poor excuse of a conversation they were supposed to have. 

He opened an email. "Azuma Pharmacy Green Rockets, Tachibana Red Falcons and EJP Raijins." 

"All division one. Ya really tryin' to win against me, Suna!" He pouted. "Where yer goin'?" 

It was Suna's time to mockingly smile at him. "Dunno, where are _you_ going?" 

"Aww, didn't think ya liked yer captain here so much. Ya really wanna keep playin' with me after high school?" Both boys snorted. Suna punched his arm and earned a "Hey!" For it.

"I just wanna picture exactly what colors you'll be wearing when you see me blocking your annoying dumps." Suna smirked. 

"Stop pretending, ya know ya love me.~"

"Shut up, Atsumu."

The silence was back, a little less awkward this time. Suna reread the recruitment emails for what seemed to be the tenth time. 

"How much time did they give ya to decide?"

"Till graduation. Two weeks." He put the cellphone down again. "Can't believe I'm doing this." Atsumu heard him sigh. 

There they were, green olive eyes, solemnly perceiving his soul. 

"What would you do?" He let out. Small, frail voice. They both knew what he was actually talking about. Suna was an idiot. 

Even though Atsumu wanted to record that moment and post it online as 'Suna Rintarou, biggest High School bitch finally asks his captain for advice' that green gaze just erased all his thoughts. 

With no words, his lips curved upwards, very slightly.

_I should not intervene in Destiny's way_

He probably didn't understand it like that. 

"Good luck" and he wished it, sincerely. Atsumu gave Suna a friendly back pat. The dim glow on Suna's crimson string was brighter, more intense. The way too stretched line now relaxed its grip, wrapping around his ring finger too. 

Atsumu's smile disappeared when his eyes fell on his own lonely thread. 

_I should not intervene in my own way too. How unfair._

He went back home jogging. Saw Osamu texting someone. The string around his wrist had its agonizing tension gone. A small traces of a smile showed on his face, through the shine of his eyes focused on the phone screen. 

_It'll never break._

→ ←

The cherry blossom petals fell, their last spring in Inarizaki High School. Atsumu really believed he lived the best year of his life to this point. He made his previous captain's last wish come true and led his volleyball team to the top of the Nationals. 

As he ran away from at least five confessions or whatever it was supposed to be, Atsumu looked for his twin brother who was late for the graduation ceremony. 

After going inside every single classroom and interrogating poor Gin that had nothing to do with this twice, he decided to look for Osamu in the only place he denied to go to this whole time.

The school's roof, that Osamu and Suna found together in their firsts days studying in Inarizaki and became their own little secret for almost an year. 

Atsumu forced the rusted lock open to the stairs access and climbed, ready to lecture Osamu and possibly Suna for being late to their own damn graduation. 

He opened the door and peeked in just a little bit. His vision shined red. 

Suna and Osamu sat on the floor, backs against the wall. Their hair was full of the rosy petals. The red strings wrapped around them grandiosely, waving, stretching and glowing, forming little bows around them.

The strings ended, attached to their pinky fingers of their right hands, interlocked, just like Osamu and Suna's hands were right now. 

Osamu's eyes were closed, he leaned against the taller boy's shoulder without letting go of his hand. Suna took the stray cherry blossom petals off his hair with his left hand, smiling like a fool. 

Atsumu closed the door slowly, hoping they didn't notice him. Well, they still had some minutes before the ceremony would actually start and need them to show up. 

His own scarlet line floated around his wrist, the empty end guided the movement, creating an invisible bracelet on his arm. Atsumu let out a breath he didn't even know he's been holding in while going down the stairs. 

He'd ignore the slight pink painting itself on Osamu and Suna's faces when they arrived late to the line of presentation for class 3-1 and got lectured by their very angry and short homeroom teacher.

The school represents gave a speech that was beautiful and very difficult to understand. Atsumu received lots of "Congratulations!" From his underclassmen while walking outside the school's corridors. His twin and Suna went right behind him, avoiding to look at each other. 

Atsumu was so bothered by that awful tension in the air. He turned on his back when they passed by the cherry blossoms in the way out of school. 

"Hey, you two! We're like, graduated, didja notice? A whole phase of yer lives just ended and ya gonna be makin' these depressed faces for the pictures?" He crossed his arms. Both boys rolled their eyes. 

He took a deep breath. _Don't. Don't do anything or it'll backfire on ya._

Wind blew the pink petals in the boys' direction, seeing how their gaze directed towards them, he had an idea. 

_Do I really care? Noooope!_

"Suna get yer phone, 'Samu's lookin' dumb with these flowers in his hair, like these ice creams with three flavors." And he threw himself between them, grabbing their necks. Osamu stuck his tongue out

"As if you didn't have a bunch of them in your own hair!" Suna retorted, seeing one pink petal fall from the blonde fringe to Atsumu's nose. Atsumu blew it away, frowning at Osamu's laughter. 

He didn't miss Suna's small smile at that.

Suna turned the phone on and positioned the camera, taking advantage of his extra centimeters. Atsumu wrapped his arms around their shoulders, Osamu to his left and Suna to his right. He gave the camera a toothy smile. 

He opened his eyes and his vision shined bright red. His eye twitched. 

"Cheese!" 

→ ←

The following year passed in the blink of an eye and, without even noticing, Atsumu was now a rookie in professional volleyball league, going after his own recruitments and try-outs at the of 19 years old. Although he's practically a veteran when it comes to playing the game, he knows his place must be earned and fought for. V-league was the wild forest and he was just a baby fox at that point, needing to learn how to catch his own prey on the matches and showing he's worth the money and effort the team is putting on his back. 

Considering the variables, signing with the Jackals seemed reasonable. Atsumu liked the team since he was a kid and it was great space for him to shine as a setter. Or maybe he was convinced but the promise of an apartment near the hometown stadium by a sponsor. And the paycheck was great for a rookie. Believe what you want. 

The apartment was huge, way bigger than the one he used to share with Osamu for his brief four months of despair for a contract in the off-season period. One of the rooms had a balcony with a nice view of downtown and it wasn't in a ridiculously high floor like before so no vertigo issues. 

His brother offered to help him unpack his things, having the privilege of being the first one to use the kitchen in exchange. Without thinking twice, Atsumu grabbed him by the collar five floors up the elevator and two doors to the left, inside number 532.

They agreed on diving the furniture by the places it'd be in and let the organizing part under Atsumu's responsibility, since he hated when things weren't placed the way he liked.

"'Tsumu, it's been more than an hour that you've been in there, I'm finishin' dinner" Osamu warned when he opened the door. The little photo frame in Atsumu's hands almost shattered on the floor. 

"No need to yell at me all of a sudden! I'll go in five minutes." And he very carefully placed the frame on the desk, along with all the others.

Osamu stepped in, observing Atsumu's work with the pics on the desk closely. One of the frames in particular was a gift from Osamu himself, Atsumu remembers well. 

That frame had a picture with three boys in it. 

In the photo, they hugged each other and smiled, yielding their diplomas up. Lots of cherry blossom petals were entangled in their hair. One of them had gray strands, poorly re-done, because the black roots were evident. On the boy's ears, if you looked closer, there was a faint pink blush. He smiled shyly to the camera, but his eyes were on the brunette on the other side, who took the picture. The brunette had a big radiant smile and shiny green eyes. In the middle of the two, was Atsumu, who also smiled. 

"Why do _you_ have this pic and I don't?" Osamu groaned, tearing his eyes away from it and looking at another familiar photo with the Inarizaki Volleyball Team where he also wasn't looking at the camera.

Atsumu snorted, ignoring the weak slaps he got on his shoulders. 

"It was my idea, dontcha remember?" He took the frame in his hands again. "Suna sent me and had his phone reset some days later. Big Suna depression happened and all. He must be looking for it to this day" Atsumu smirked. 

Osamu's ears had a faint pink shade to them, just like the boy from an year ago. "Ya gonna stay here forever? Food's gonna cool down." He sighed, leaving and closing the door.

"I'll go just wait a little!" Atsumu rolled his eyes.

And he did. Later that day after Osamu left, he decided he'd finish it with the pics on his desk. They were taking too much space and he hated how they were placed. 

He took a while to revisit the memories they registered. Their granny teaching Osamu and his how to make onigiri, one that had him raising the Nationals trophy that was taken last year. One of them was taken by Itachiyama's Komori Motoya, from the Youth training camp, where Hoshiumi and him were making peace signs without Sakusa and Kageyama noticing. He snorted at that memory. 

Atsumu took the out of the frames and improvised a little with a magnet board he got from his mom that she didn't use. He stuck the in some sort of chronological order in their position. 

Putting the board on the wall, he decided it'd look nice right above the desk, where the only untouched frame rested on.

Atsumu let out a sigh and closed his eyes. 

He opened his eyelids and pulled his phone out of his hoodie's pocket, sent a text to a contact he didn't talk to for weeks. 

'wouldja look at what I found'

[Attached image]

'ya should come here to get it'

'it's been almost an year now'

When he out his phone back inside, a crimson glow covered the frame. The string covered the shape of the frame and the faces of the boys on both sides of the trio. 

The Atsumu in the pic had a weakening grin on his face. 

The present day Atsumu groaned, putting the picture down, facing the desk. 

He's gonna go to bed earlier tonight.

→ ←

The doorbell rang. Atsumu glanced at the microwave clock and decided he should open. It was 9 am. 

"Where is it?" Suna asked. 

"Wow, good morning for ya too, Suna." He let the middle blocker it. Suna took his shoes out and waited for Atsumu to close the door. 

Suna looked around. "Nice place." 

"Nice jacket" Atsumu pointed out, the Raijins symbol on the back, Suna's name on the right side of the chest. 

"Thanks. I like the color. Now where is it?" the taller one repeated. 

"It's yer first time in here, pretend yer like super excited or somethin'!" Atsumu whined as he entered his messy room looked for the frame. 

Suna followed him and made his typical 'judging the life outta you' glare. "I'm single and don't spend much time here ya should stay quiet." 

"It's gross. And I'm being nice." Atsumu wanted to throw him out of the window.

"Here's yer stupid pic." He handed it to Suna.

"Oh my god I almost forgot your shitty high school dye job" Suna cackled. 

"Shut up, Suna." He scoffed. 

Suna wasn't listening. He looked once again at the picture and seemed really focused on a tiny detail there. 

"'Samu's blushing, if that's what ya wanna ask." 

Suna glanced up at him with a murder glare. 

"Keep it. My laptop has a copy. And it was yers anyway." He took the picture out of the frame carefully.

"Why did you take so much time to give it to me?" Suna asked. 

"Ya had to earn it" he blurted out.

"Really?" Suna snorted.

Atsumu looked at him to see the red string shining around him, creating a gorgeous spectacle of silk-looking threads dancing around Suna's head. 

Osamu was happy.

"Yeah" he retorted.

→ ←

"What did I do to deserve this?" Atsumu muttered against the granite counter in Onigiri Miya shop's first and never used before kitchen. His cheeks were starting to get numb against the cold material. Osamu put the last knives in his scarily dear knife set. His brother had a permanent smile on his face since they met to get the things in the shop. 

Osamu let out a small laugh and turned to Atsumu. "So yer tellin' me ya would leave yer place in the Jackals 'cause of some guy you don't like?"

"That's the worst part! I cannot not like the dude, 'Samu! Bokuto's been torturin' me since day one and I can't hate him." He raised his head only to whine, shoving his cheek against the counter again. 

"And yer havin' a problem with dealin' with yer Tsundere problems?"

Atsumu let out an upset moan that made Osamu giggle. 

When he raised his head from the counter against because the cold was now unbearable, his twin examined how the light hit a glass with some rare concentration, fidgeting with it. Weird. 

Atsumu took the glass from Osamu and squinted. "The hell happened to ya? You've been all happy the whole day. What's up now?"

Greyish eyes widened and teared from the hazel gaze, fixated on the floor. Osamu's hands were still fidgety, begging for something to tug or hold at. 

Atsumu knew that behavior.

The hell that happened had name, surname, height and played middle blocker for the East Japan Paper Mills Raijins. The hell that happened was the reason the red string wrapped tightly around Osamu's body and darted out, stretched to its limit. Atsumu's blood boiled. 

"'Samu" he did his best to not sound like he was about to beat a Suna Rintarou up. "The hell's wrong with ya?"

"It's nothing." He answered. Atsumu gritted his teeth. 

"Look at me"

Osamu closed his eyes and opened them again, locking his gaze with his own. 

"Things's been weird." Without needing to ask again, he let it out. Osamu was an excellent liar, unless he had to lie to him. 

"Why?"

"It's been like months since I last saw him since I came to Sendai and we rarely text or talk 'bout each other so it's like he's…" Osamu's voice was almost inaudible.

"He's leaving you aside." Atsumu completed.

Osamu's eyes ran from his once again.

Atsumu left the counter and filled the cup Osamu played with before with water. Both twins watched the clear liquid fall inside it. It was the only noise inside the shop for a few eternities.

Osamu's thread wrapped around his wrist and seemed like it wanted to pull him along with it.

Atsumu decided he'd throw the damn no intervention rule out of the window once again. More directly this time. 

"Ya know, it may sound crazy" he starts, drinking a bit of the water from the glass. "But I kind of know how yer feelin'. Like not exactly this type of jealousy and stuff but I've been there before." Osamu frowned at the mention of jealousy. 

"So I'm telling ya something I've been wanting to say for ages. "Atsumu grinned. "Suna and you are two dumbasses made for each other. No one's ever gonna be as important to that guy as you." 

"How are you so sure?"

He giggled. "I just know."

The string around Osamu's wrist slowly loosened its grip, shining in scarlet. _Yer welcome._ He thought.

→ ←

Atsumu's experiences with intervening in Fortune's way had an specific pattern that always followed the opposite of his goal of separating the souls for a little bit. 

It'd be comical if it wasn't tragical to see how the little hands of fate seemed to hate him. Submitting him to a life of everlasting loneliness apparently wasn't enough.

But Atsumu never really learned from most of his mistakes unless they came at his face in the form of his brother's right hook on his jaw. 

And now, lying on his bed with his legs resting up against the wall, playing with his own red string, he heard the annoying, obnoxious, disturbing sound of someone typing on a keyboard.

Someone was his twin who had a mug of that probably had half a litre of coffee in it. The typed the numbers written on a notebook in an Excel spreadsheet.

"'Samu ya came here to work? Really? I had a whole Resident Evil night planned. I even gotcha the ugly green ice cream you like." Atsumu whined. 

"Kanae-san was the only responsible for the shop's accounting department. She's in pregnancy license and I haven't got the time to look for anyone to take care of it. Bear with me for a little will ya?" He didn't stop typing while talking, has his brother become a robot?

Atsumu got up and closed the laptop on his face, taking the monstrous coffee mug away from him. "Yer lookin' like a zombie. Go take a bath."

Osamu blinked various times before processing the information, like an old computer trying to load an Internet Explorer page. He needed to stop making spreadsheets immediately. And Atsumu threw his towel on his face while he stood there like an idiot. 

One hour running away from actual zombies later, Atsumu found Osamu sleeping on his bed. 

The cellphone in his pocket vibrated. Without considering any other decent option, he picked it up. 

"Hello?"

"Did you miss me?" A voice sang on the other side. Suna's voice. Atsumu held his laughter in. 

"Of course, honey, I cooked dinner thinkin' 'bout ya~" he said in a high pitch 

"Atsumu, the hell are you doing with Osamu's phone?" Suna's monotonous voice was back at normal. 

"Yer no fun" complained Atsumu.

"You really thought I'd fall for that?"

"Ya really thought I wouldn't try to pick the phone up? Ya know 'Samu's here." And he held his laughter in again, remembering the contact ID for Suna being 'Rintarou' and a heart emoji. His brother is so cheesy.

"Don't you dare tell him…" he threatened.

"He's gonna find out anyway. I know his password."

"What is it?"

Silence in the call. It's KaguraGoat95 but it's Osamu's privacy in Suna's hands. He has some common sense. 

"When were ya planning on tell me? Never?" He changed the subject swiftly.

"Well, pretend you're surprised at the coffee shop he's gonna take you to tomorrow." Suna giggled. "Promise me."

"I promise."

"Thanks."

"Hey Suna." Atsumu called.

"What?"

"Don't tell 'Samu I said that but I think you guys fit each other, ya know?"

"Who are you and what have you done to my future brother in law?" Suna gasped.

"Shut it." Atsumu could see the red string of fate floating, from Osamu's hand buried under the pillow to an apartment in Tokyo, traveling hundreds of kilometers. "It's like you guys were made for each other." 

"Cheesy. How'd you know that?" 

Atsumu watched his own string wrap around his ring finger and climp up his wrist and forearm, guided by the empty end, that looked like it stared at him innocently. 

"I just know" he answered.

↑

For a long time, Atsumu watched Osamu and Suna frustratingly dance around each other as destiny's little puppets. He saw the thread tangled, stretched and loose around their fingers, he saw it tell him their story in a way he knew no other person in the world would know. 

Maybe being able to see fate work to join these two jerks who team up to gather embarrassing footage of him falling on his face was the closest he'd ever get to actually experience it. 

He'd met many people who found the end of their string and were smart enough to never let go, regardless of the circumstances. He'd seen destiny's fury against who goes against it. 

He wondered, wrapping the thread the could never touch, only have a small tingling feel on his skin, what could he do to have his own path if fate didn't mind giving him one. 

He wanted to try tying himself to someone, just so he could be sure to have that feeling Osamu and Suna probably shared when they locked gazes. Connection, belonging. 

The selfish setter who wanted his players to adapt and follow the rhythm he dictated. How ironic was his high school image now. 

Every time Osamu and Suna met him, the string would grow thicker and stronger around them. It mocked Atsumu. 

Destiny's fury didn't scare him. He never learns from his dumb mistakes anyway. 

A loose string only needs another loose bond to tie itself to it. 

Maybe he'd try. 

Love is hopeless, after all. At least for Miya Atsumu. 

**Author's Note:**

> No, reader, there's no "let's talk about atsumu session" he's hopeless. Still, let me tell you some funny things about this story in case you're sensitive right now. 
> 
> This started with "I hate atsumu he must suffer" and then i was cleaning my bedroom and found a red string of wool. Boom baby! 
> 
> Fun fact: the little arrows are not just timestamps they are orientating you. Divergent straight lines are pre timeskip osasuna, convergent ones are post timeskip and the semi straight line is Atsumu's introspection.
> 
> I would absolutely explode in happiness if you leave me a comment if you got till here. It makes me want to jump around and sing Disney songs. :)
> 
> Thank you very much for reading this story, dear reader. Please take care of yourself, drink water and beat up a cop. 
> 
> Yell at me to write in my twitter account @lovingmiyas I'm not an atsumu stan :)


End file.
